


Live And Let Die (you know you did)

by anna_sun



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: American Revolution, F/F, Female Alexander Hamilton, Female John Laurens, Hamilton AU, Lesbian Sex, Making Out, Porn With Plot, genderbent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-28 11:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7638139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_sun/pseuds/anna_sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every single flaw that once made her an undesirable and disrespectful woman slowly morphed into a blessing, right there as her eyes stared directly back at her in the dirty and yellowed mirror.</p><p>Eliza's words echoed in her brain, bouncing on every wall,</p><p>''My dear, you cannot serve. You are a woman. You would get killed.''</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Have this genderbent crossdressing Hamilton AU. Just take it. Please.
> 
> Tags will be added along the way. 
> 
> Special, enormous thanks to Michelle (kolminye, check out her stuff) for helping me get through with this. Couldn't have done it without you.

Every single flaw that once made her an undesirable and disrespectful woman slowly morphed into a blessing, right there as her eyes stared directly back at her in the dirty and yellowed mirror.  

Elizabeth's words echoed in her brain, bouncing on every wall,

_''My dear, you cannot serve. You are a woman. You would get killed.''_

Eliza's lips had still been magically tainted with red as she'd said the short sentences, mouth around the edge of a cup of some fine wine, Angelica and Peggy nodding seriously at her side. The sisters were a trio that Alex had needed time to fully understand, a lot of time, time she didn't have. She'd thought she had it all worked out when she'd shared her dream with them, had at the very least expected Angelica's support. But her face had stayed stern, and Alex had distantly started thinking about marble sculptures of gods and goddesses. So unbelievably pretty yet so, so serious. 

The sad truth was that Alex was already well aware of the facts. The military didn't accept women among their commands, and she'd been cursed with a so-called flower between her legs at birth. It had been decided against her will that she didn't have any right to fight for the freedom of the colonies. _Her_ colonies, every bit as much hers than any incompetent, incapable and stupid man that lived in it and had the undeserved right to fight for it. 

 _''But they need volunteers!''_   She'd so helplessly tried, because maybe convincing them meant there was a slight chance she should continue to believe. _''If they would simply listen to me, I can convince them I'm capable, I could be of use, I'm very-''_

 _''Alexandra,''_ Angelica had interrupted. Her eyes had held sadness and pity when she'd said, _''The only use they believe they could do of you is if you spread your legs every night and let soldiers find horrible comfort in between them.''_

Eliza had been scandalized at that, so much that she'd ungracefully let go of her drink to get young Peggy away from the conversation as quickly as possible. Their long dresses could have swept the floor clean as they'd walked away to what Alex had guessed was another glorious, unneeded room in the place. 

Eliza had then muttered something under her breath, about the fact that it wasn't because Dad wasn't home that they could say such things. Yet Angelica hadn't seemed to mind the leaving of her sisters, had simply stared at her in an even more serious manner before saying, 

 _''I'm begging you, find yourself a husband, a nice life, leave it to the men to sacrifice theirs. God knows you've lived through enough. Why seek war? It's definitely not for us women.''_  

Alex had left without sparing her a second glance.

Now she stares more intensively at her own body, small breasts and defined jaw, trying to find masculine features where she could. It wasn't that hard. Her body never looked like any temple they described women's body as, she could easily understand why dresses and gowns never seemed to fall right on her skin. 

And her attitude, the gallantry she could never understand, the sophisticated walk she could never quite get the steps of right. She hadn't needed that in the Caribbeans, hadn't needed it when she was poor in the streets. She could walk like one of them beasts, act like it even more easily. 

Everything that always made men, possible future husbands, walk away in disgust now seemed to make perfect sense. It all came crashing down to this moment, the moonlight shining on her naked skin, skin no weapon could tear through, skin that wasn't _less_ because it held, inside, a woman. 

And what if she wasn't? 

That thought keeps her awake for most nights. She lays on her creaking bed and stares at the tobacco stains on the ceiling, imagines they're mapping out the world for her to see. If she's not doing that she's writing, reading her old papers about her hunger to fight and about the chains that used to keep her down and smiles, laughs, because now she's planning and she has ideas and she _knows_ what she's doing. Where she's going.The papers she writes aren't about hope and curses and wishes to die meaning something to this world anymore, they're prophecies. Alexandra can see it. 

With every drop of ink, she believes. 

It could, possibly, probably, work. 

She'd have to give up on her long locks of hair, to find men's clothing that fits her, not too baggy but not too small, either. Any kind of cloth could press her breasts down into nothing, really. It was hard enough to see them when there was a corset pushing them up anyways. If she could tell the Schuyler sisters, if she could ever, that she didn't know. She was grateful for Eliza's care, how she'd treated her like a friend even when Alex's skin was practically black with dirt and mud and hers was as white and shiny as porcelain. She couldn't even begin to fathom to know if she'd ever get Angelica's forgiveness for such an impulsive act. It felt rushed, unfair, to leave without a goodbye of any sorts. 

But after their last conversation, she feared the sisters wouldn't let her leave. At least not in peace. 

She shakes her head. Everything starts rushing again.

Fake papers. Medical exams. These were going to be the harder stuff to get through. But she'd get through it, knew she could. Maybe they weren't so strict on which men they were letting in anymore, they were in dire need of soldiers after all. Nobody had a right to be picky when trying to build a new country. 

Around her, everything was falling apart. But for her, everything was falling right into place. 

So much that, within five days, she was holding a quill in a shaking hand and signing her enlistment papers. 

-

To be assigned under Washington's command was, as much of a great honor, a coincidence. She was by far not the best soldier in the troupes, neither the fastest nor the strongest. It seemed odd to believe someone had seen her training and recommended her. Him. Or maybe they'd seen through her thinner arms and scrawny figure and figured out her brain was a much needed resource on the field. Regardless, her name was written on the list, _Alexander Hamilton_ , right there in dark ink, in the same handwriting as the others. Nothing less, nothing more. She'd pressed the head of her thumb against the name, almost expecting to smudge and ruin it. There it had been, the proof she was finally part of it all. Pride was still swelling in her tight chest. 

They were scheduled to leave by sunrise, still not sure where to. She'd only ever mounted a horse once before, in a dress at that, when Eliza had asked for the beautiful dark beast to be brought out when she learned Alexandra had never done such thing. She'd described it as freeing, the hair flying in the wind, the dress' tissues flapping at her sides. Alex couldn't have helped but to agree. 

She wondered what it would be like, this time wearing pants and actually going somewhere. 

Though right now she wasn't supposed to be thinking about that. She was meant to be enjoying the evening with her fellow soldiers, last hot meal on a plate for the brave men of the army. 

''The sixty of us are being quartered farther down the Hudson,'' A man named Mulligan said around a mouthful of beer, muscular figure finally looking relaxed, resting on the bench. Alex tried her best to sit like them, legs spread enough to take too much space, elbows resting on the table which she was hunched over, where she willed her hand to stay firm on her own cup of the worst alcohol she'd ever tasted. She couldn't tell if she looked the part but she knew she didn't feel like it, sitting at a tavern's table with men who didn't hold in their burps or comments on the fine women walking around. She even caught one of them unashamedly bringing their hand under the table to scratch their crotch and then _sniffing it_. 

She was surprised not to be repulsed by it all. Sure, it felt foreign, like she didn't totally belong there, but in a way she did. At least she seemed to, when she asked Mulligan, ''How do you know?'' 

Mulligan laughed, all heart and bright teeth. ''Hamilton, you should know by now that I just happen to know shit.'' 

Which brought the other men around the table to join in the laughter. Swearing was also a relatively new thing for her, one she surprisingly didn't find totally unpleasant. However she couldn't quite understand what Hercules was implying with his loud words, how she was supposed to know anything about any of them at all. Even if men seemed to only be able to talk about themselves, they didn't share a whole lot. Their words held, most times, nothing. At this point in her journey, she could associate some faces with names, but that seemed to be it.  

''Could I ask what is so hilarious?'' Someone made themselves be heard, standing still at the end of the table.  

''Burr, I am scared you would ruin the fun,'' the French guy, Marquis of something,  _simply call me Lafayette_ , said. Burr's face fell slightly at that, and some men laughed into their drinks. Alexandra looked at the man some more, his nice, fitted clothes free of stains and tears, his sharp expression and soft features. No wonders others didn't seem to appreciate his presence.  

''Are you fools aware this might be the last meal you'll get to eat under a decent roof in a long time? I wouldn't waste that getting drunk enough to fall off your horses come tomorrow morning.'' 

''Nobody's drunk,'' one of the men said, proving his point by harshly putting his drink on the table and making a wet, sticky mess of beer from it. His head was tilted, dangling as if it was too heavy for his own neck, eyes looking up at Burr.  

''Right.'' Aaron let a cloth fall on the table, provided to clean the mess up. ''In any case, have fun. Looking forward to seeing you in battle.'' 

The mockeries grew louder as Burr walked further away, Alexandra trying to make herself small in the sea of broad shoulders and loud laughs. 

Men were never _not_ suffocating. 

-

Her inner thighs hurt like a raging fire with every movement of the horse (which, in her head, had now been baptized Colossus). She could feel each and every one of her muscles working at the same time, already drained from all energy, while other men talked around her as if it were nothing.

Though the loud clatter of voices and hooves couldn't tear her eyes away from the troupe of women riding at the top of the line. She'd noticed them the moment they arrived, as most men did. Their lot had been ordered by Washington himself not to disturb or _traumatize_ any of them, which had brought the literal pigs in the regiment to laugh and do disgusting mannerisms such as raise their eyebrows and grab their crotches while laughing some more. 

Washington had, of course, shut that all down with one quick glare, and so the ladies now successfully stayed undisturbed, riding beside the General. Alexandra had been staring so intensively she could distinguish the shades of their eyes, even perceive the scared look some of them bore when they turned their heads to talk to each other. What was the most fascinating, though, was their faces. They were stripped of all shallowness the city most of the time obliged on women. It left a natural and most beautiful thing to look at, so much that she couldn't stop her eyes from gazing into the freckled face of one particular gorgeous, golden-skinned beauty.    

Perhaps there was another reason why she could never seem to find herself a suitable husband (she wondered what Angelica would say).

''Ah, the _nurses,_ '' Lafayette purred with a knowing voice. ''Hamilton, struck by love already?'' She turned her head to look at him once she heard her name. 

''Don't be an idiot,'' she tried in her most convincing masculine voice, finding it difficult to shake off the visage of the woman from her brain to talk to her fellow soldiers. She still felt a nervous weight in her stomach each time she had to speak up, one which was impossible to ignore. She feared her voice would crack, just once, and she'd be dead gone. 

''Yes, Gilbert, don't be an idiot.'' Hercules joined in the conversation from his horse behind them, probably had been eavesdropping beforehand. ''Alexander, have you even hit puberty yet?'' 

Hercules smiled bright because he never meant any harm with his words, that she'd figured out. She played the game, her answer holding a quite sarcastic tone when she said, ''This is harassment.'' 

Lafayette laughed like they weren't actually riding towards possible deathly battles, and so Alexandra joined in the happiness glow and smiled. Both men seemed content enough with that, figuring Alexander Hamilton wasn't much the talkative type and continued the conversation on their own. 

She, on the other hand, went back to staring straight ahead, landscape passing by them going from open fields to shadowed, muddy forests, things she not so long ago was dreaming of exploring, back in her shitty, nicotine-stained motel room in the city. Yet her eyes stayed fixated on the _one_ thing riding a couple feet in front of her. 

She almost wished she was a nurse.  

-

The first time she sheds blood is quick, unfair and with a large lack of pride. 

The Hudson isn't, per se, deep, but Alex can't swim, and the slight thrill of the battle isn't enough to overcome the fear of drowning. It's hard to see the end of the river on both her sides, in the dead of night, even with a squint of her eyes. She's shivering, but she stares straight ahead, paddles and paddles and paddles.

They come to shore and attack the British troops with the moon sitting still above their heads, big and white and the only source of light in the night. The musket is cold and heavy in the palm of her hand, and it feels bigger than her whole body, while the men around her hold theirs like a simple extension of their arms. She feels dirty, the cold wind not doing anything to brush the sweat off her skin. It's when she carefully moves around a tree to follow the others that her breath thickens and that her heartbeat quickens. The reality of it all hits her with the first gunshot, bullet aimed at them and lodging itself in the left arm of William with a scream. 

''They've seen us!'' She isn't quite sure who screams, maybe Hershall or Summers, and Washington isn't standing tall anymore.

''Divide into smaller parties!'' he half-shouts from behind them, knowing they can overcome the numbers if they're quick and smart about it. She's fast on her feet, separates herself from the rest (last thing she sees being Burr's horrified expression) before she aims and shots at the first redcoat that comes in her sight. It doesn't quite go where she wanted it to go but it's enough to make the enemy fall on the ground.

It's several hours before the sun rises in the east and she finds her way back to the others, surprised she isn't one of the many bodies covering the ground. They're smaller in numbers but still, they have their first victory stained under their broken fingernails. 

She looks down at her own and wonders. 

-

_Dear Elizabeth,_

_Please do me the pleasure of being so kind and have this letter be read by your dearest sister as soon as you are finished with it. I trust you to make sure she doesn't burn the paper as soon as it settles into her hands. My words may not mean much to either of you in the moment, but I'd still like them to be treated with respect, as much of it as you can manage, that is. I am aware your anger must be fierce and running hot, due to my somewhat unexpected leaving. I can understand bearing such sentiment towards me._

_But, you on the other hand must understand that I took the time to think about my decision, spent many countless nights doing exactly that, and what did I find? That I wasn't one to sit down and enjoy the positive repercussions of the revolution in the safe corner of the colonies while others fought and died for it, simply because of what sits between my legs. You won't be surprised to know I have carved my place into this regiment, a place where I truly believe I belong. I am no immigrant here, I am no woman. I am a soldier._

_To be one is at most times, indeed, rough. But I won't sadden you with the cruel details of war. You always had a sensible heart, which is the thing I like most about you. Simply trust me when I say this choice was no error, no path I shouldn't have crossed. Don't be scared for me. These men have my back._

_I also feel the need to clarify I won't ask for forgiveness, especially since I am aware that would be utterly useless. However, if any of you were to write back, even if only to scold me, I might still hold some hope for it in my heart._

_You should definitely know the freedom of being a man is something out of this world. You should try it sometime. Steal your father's clothes, hide your locks underneath a hat and walk freely into the city. It is amazing the things you can see._

_I must go, duty calls, but know that I think about you three every day. You are the only thing I find myself missing from that old life of mine._

_Yours sincerely,_

_A.Hamilton._

_-_

Maybe it's because she couldn't think clearly. 

The humidity had been clinging in everybody's brains, suffocating coherent thoughts into a mess until every man left standing could only think about home and rest and _home_. She wasn't immune to that. Couldn't always be so smart, it was practically impossible to ask such a thing of her. 

Or maybe it's because of her horse. 

The poor beast had been tired since they'd established camp, and horses weren't known for their liking of gun shots. Maybe that was why it hadn't listened when she'd roughly pulled the reins in a last attempt to save herself. 

Or, maybe, most likely, it's because of luck. Or rather, lack thereof. God was angry with her. She could feel it. It was pretty hard to miss, after it had taken the form of two bullets lodged deep into the meat of her left arm. 

No matter the reason, she falls off her horse and to the ground, only to suffocate on the pain. 

**_-_ **

Red. Tickling down her arm even with her fingers hopelessly grasping the wound, _wounds, multiple wounds, two bullets,_ and trying to put pressure on it. On them. On the ground, more blood,  _blood that isn't hers_ , dried. Redcoat after redcoat after _redcoat_. They don't matter. They don't, she repeats in her head as she continues to look at them, they _don't_. She does. 

Gunshots, screams, groans. War is still going strong, she realizes when her ears start working again and everything crescendos into a climax of sound. _She needs to find cover_. Where's Colossus? The beast galloped away, most likely. Good for him, she thinks.

She needs to find help, there's no way she can walk back to camp. No way. She's hit with a wave of gracefulness to not have been shot in the leg. At least she can walk some. 

Pain numbs. That's something she didn't know. Does she even have an arm anymore? She looks down and sees more red. Red on red on red, red on skin turned white, red on the blue of her coat. A true patriotic.  

Heat clings to her skin and blood is warm, so fucking warm, she can't tell her body apart from the air around her anymore. Maybe it's the adrenaline. Maybe it's not. 

She thinks this field might just become her graveyard when she falls on the ground and crawls through the mud, swallowing seas of it, dirt, _blood_ , finds herself taking cover behind a dead soldier. 

They say it's Washington who finds her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just pretend one only needs to shorten their hair and start wearing pants to look like a believable man. Let's just. 
> 
> Feedback is very much appreciated!! I swear the Lams stuff starts in chapter 2, and God, it's a monster of a chapter.  
> (spoiler alert there's even going to be a sex scene in it shhhh)


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing she is aware of doing is groaning. 

''She's awake, go get some milk.'' A soft voice beside her. Alex can only turn her head and see a bust, a dress. Another voice answers. ''Yes, yes, put it on her ration, we have no other choice.''  

 _She_. _Her_. 

The second thing she notices is the mattress she's rested on, stiffer than her usual one. Her eyes widen in worry once she fully realizes where she is, looks down on herself and can definitely see she has breasts, under the fabric of her linen white shirt.

She's shaken with a hard wave of panic and frantically tries her best to sit up straight, but the sharp shock of pain it sends to her arm has her falling back down on the bed. She practically screams out because of it, and perhaps she should feel relieved to not be dead, but when a nurse gently takes her arm in both hands to inspect the injury and says, ''Please, don't move. You'll only make it worse.'' 

She knows she'd rather be doomed for the ground. 

''Let go of- how do you- I have to _leave_.'' She knows there's no way she can reason with the women, that they most likely already sent word out for their outrageous discovery, but she can't _not_ try. She can't imagine how she must look like either, how much of a mad person she's made of herself already, and yet she still adds, ''They're going to send me back, imprison me, you can't, you can't-'' 

''Hamilton, is it? Maybe not.''

Alexandra manages to sit up then, to hear a voice she doesn't know but belongs to a face she _does_. 

A face hard to forget.

''I'm Johanna. Laurens.'' She smiles as if Alexandra's life, world, didn't just crumble to ashes mere moments ago. She, herself, almost magically manages to forget. ''You're in your tent, have been passed out for a while now.''

An older woman comes in then with the glass of milk that had been requested at her wakening. The drink itself isn't even mildly cold but Alexandra swallows it all in two gulps, thankful for the relief of dryness from her mouth. She calmly nods at the woman in a sign of appreciation, but all she gets back is an intense glare, filled with something that resembles loathing. She leaves in a flash, taking another one of the nurses by her arm out the tent, and suddenly the only nurse left by her side is Laurens.  

''Oh,'' is Alexandra's only answer to Johanna as she turns her attention back to her and lets her take the glass away from her shaking hands. The woman is even more beautiful up close, Alex finds. Her curls fall freely and stubbornly out of the bun on the top of her head, framing her face as they cascade down her head. She wonders how long her mane actually is, if it falls below or breasts or even brushes the top of her bottom when it's let down. Alexandra remembers her own with strange nostalgia, finds herself shivering from a ghost-tickle on her shoulders because of hair that isn't there anymore.   

She must look _absolutely_ disgusting in the moment. 

She desperately wants to asks, needs to know, _did you tell anyone?_ , _does anyone else know?_ , wants to tear at her skin and show that she is worth more than they think, that she deserved her place here, but as soon as she separates her lips and her tongue connects with the roof of her mouth, Johanna steals the words from her throat.

''You're safe, stop worrying. We didn't inform the General of anything.'' She smiles, and Alexandra is stunned. ''Well, all he knows is that Alexander Hamilton is alive and well.'' 

Alexandra stays starry-eyed until she looks down at her arm and the blood that's soaking through. Johanna seems to be about to say something right when the tent's cloth is rapidly shaken with the arrival of somebody, getting her to turn her head towards the entrance and see Lafayette.

''Is the fool alive? Where's Hamilton?''

She can't help but smile when she hears his voice, thick accent forming words of worry until finally the man spots her. She suffers a heartbeat of panic when she realizes her upper body isn't covered by anything, right until Johanna quickly grabs the blanket sitting at the end of the bed and lets it heavily fall on her. It's then that the next person comes through, one that isn't recognizable by his voice but rather by his loud steps, coming in the place as if he already owned it all. Hercules. 

She can barely catch her breath before the two men are at her side. Like always they're rough in their manners, talking all over each other, and for a second it overwhelms her to the point where she doesn't know exactly where to look at, right until her lost gaze spots Burr. He followed close behind, trying with grand but useless effort to say unseen. He nods at her once they make eyes contact, and suddenly he's gone, leaving the tent's cloth lapping behind him.

''Hamilton, fucking bastard, really got me thinking you were dead.'' Hercules supports his words with one slap on the shoulder, before immediately apologizing a hundred times when he realized what he'd done. 

''I got shot in the arm, not the lungs, I'm fine," she said, but not without noticing Johanna's strange glare at the change of tone in her voice. The other woman, who had stepped away at the arrival of Lafayette and Mulligan, almost seemed _amused_ by it all _._

Even though Alexandra was tired and still hurting from her injuries, she smiled deeply when Lafayette followed her statement with,

''Yes, the fool is clearly fine. Look at him, white as a porcelain's doll, still dirty and muddy. I can bet our poor Hamilton can't even move his arm to simply jerk it off.'' Lafayette laughed too hard at his own crude joke, but Alexandra's eyes stayed fixated on Johanna, loving her poor attempt of hiding her own laugh behind a cough.   

That got Hercules looking at her too. His eyes traveled down Johanna's body before he turned back around and uttered, ''Right, at least you got some pretty ladies keeping you company." He half whispered the sentence in a way that made it not whispered at all, and so Alexandra cursed her friend out loud right before Johanna stepped in the conversation.

''Alright, I believe Alexander could use some rest.'' Hushing them away, she smiled at her.

Alexandra swooned, if that wasn't too big of a word to describe the tight swelling in her chest. 

Both men walked out of the tent, leaving an uncomfortable yet welcomed silence behind them. Alexandra couldn't really believe her eyes when Johanna walked closer to adjust her pillow and arrange her blankets.

''You don't have to-''

''It's my job.'' She smiled the only way nurses knew how to smile, before eventually leaving her side to get to her own quarters. 

It got Alexandra starring blankly at the opening of her tent, tissue still dancing from Johanna's hurried leaving. 

-

_The mud, stuck under her fingernails, traveling through her veins, tainting her blood black. It's pouring out, load after load, gushing out of her in loud splashes, and she can't see, she can't see-_

_Eyes. Familiar, beautiful. Owning a maturity deep from within, a mother's look. Eliza's? She's got a hand on the top her belly, her smile genuine as she gently encourages her to feel it too._

_The first touch brings light into her world, like her hands aren't ones that killed after all. They're in direct contact with life, pure, unborn and unsoiled by this awful world. Still safe._

_The second touch is one of a knife. She doesn't notice it until the red liquid pours out of Eliza like an open faucet. Stab after stab after stab- she's the one holding the knife. Her hand crisps around it, her knuckles turn white and it falls from her hands onto the ground, where it belongs. Where she should be._

_Eliza's smile turns into something wicked. The scream should come, but it doesn't. She's awfully silent as she watches her baby leaving her. Maybe it's because Angelica's at her side. Her hands come up from behind Eliza as she forces them deep into her sister's flesh, her own flesh. A baby's cries in the distance fills in the silence._

_They're all ruined. Broken pieces of a stupid game turned chaotic._

_It's then that the massacre starts._

_Eliza falls to the ground and Alexandra feels herself falling too, as if the floor crumbled from under her feet.The wind flies in her hair and her heart comes up to her throat as she keeps falling down a dark pit so deep she can't see the end of it. She's trying to grasp at something, anything, her static movements are breaking her bones and tearing her skin every time she tries to hold on to anything. She's Alice in the rabbit hole, or worse, she's the fucking hole, the fall continues, it never stops, she can't-_

_A hand._

_Saves her from doom._

_It's soft and careful, fingers barely caressing the surface of her skin. Still it's strong, so tough that it brings her up the hole in one swift motion. Alexandra feels dizzy with it, head turning on its own axis,_

''Hamilton?'' 

_everything's blurry, she's spinning and she won't stop, nothing's making sense,_

''Oh, no-wake up!'' 

Johanna's face, sprinkled by freckles, is the first thing she sees as she flutters her eyes open. The room still spins in reality but all she can feel herself do is breathing, loud and hard inhales after exhales, until her heartbeat picks up its normal pace and she doesn't feel like she's falling anymore. 

It was all just a dream.     

''Johanna? What are you-'' Her mouth feels pasty and she groans at the realization, suddenly very aware of the thick layer of sweat covering her whole body. 

''God, your fever is horrible.'' Johanna places a hand on her forehead, the touch calming the upcoming headache. Alexandra has never been one to fall in love easily but she can feel her walls break down every minute she spends in the company of Johanna Laurens, nurse most probably sent on earth by the angels. ''Drink this.'' She offers the cup of water giving little to no choice to Alexandra to drink it or not. 

The liquid helps cure the crispiness of her voice, but reminders of the nightmare flash with each blink of her eyes. 

''It's most likely the medicine,'' Laurens goes on as she wipes a slightly cold and damp cloth down her face and neck. It feels like heaven. ''Gives some people nightmares.'' 

''That's,'' Alexandra has to take another breath and shift a bit from the uncomfortable position she's taken in her bed during the troubled sleep. ''Unfortunate.'' 

Laurens laughs quietly, offering her another sip of water which Alexandra accepts gratefully. 

''I don't think I'll be able to fall back asleep.'' She accepts defeat with a weak voice and a sigh, knowing she'll feel like death come morning and that, at this point, there's nothing she can do to stop it. 

''Wait here, then.'' 

-

''So, what's your real name?'' Laurens asks in the dead of that night, sitting at her bed side and stitching new embroidery into General Lee's coat, which she'd left earlier to go gab in her own quarters. She could only see with the light of one candle, and yet her work seemed to be flawless, at least from what Alexandra could tell from her bed. She still couldn't believe the fool, Lee, had been named General, out of all people, of all odds. That ought to be Washington's _greatest_ mistake.

She blinks and gets her thoughts back together.

''It's not far off, really,'' she teases and observes Johanna's reaction, how she stops embroidering to stare at her so she'd get on with it. Alexandra smiles, practically whispers the next words in case anyone is at an hearing distance from their conversation. ''Alexandra Hamilton. My name's Alexandra.''    

It felt wrong to speak freely, to say her name, something she hadn't said out loud in many months now. It burned the tip of her tongue like it was the secret she was never supposed to bring to life. The two words meant nothing to most of the world, held no legacy, and yet, 

''I like it.''

Johanna liked it.

Alexandra had heard of the Laurens, family of planters grown wealthy because of, what was it? Corn. Or maybe rice, that was just as likely. And so the question sat patiently on the tip of her tongue, curiosity trying to push it out but politeness stopping it from crossing the barrier of her lips. _Why was she here?_

''I'd say thank you but I didn't exactly choose it,'' is her poor attempt to get the conversation flowing. Johanna still smiles at the half-assed joke, almost giggles even. Could a laugh dim pain? Because Alexandra practically manages to forget she still has bullet wounds scarring her arm.

''Are your parents in New York?'' Johanna asks then, and Alexandra gets shot again. She doesn't exactly know what her expression turns into, only sees it reflected on Johanna's worried eyes and furrowed eyebrows.

''Oh, I'm sorry, is that-''

''It's fine, it's just that, well.'' This was a conversation not many deemed her important enough to have with, and so it was rare that she'd get to talk about her family. ''When I turned twelve my mother died, sick in our bed. My father left.''

The heartbreak was still poignant, but Johanna's delicate hand on hers, a gentle touch, made it all better somehow.    

After that they talked for hours. Decades. About the revolution and the war it brought, about the lives lost, about great tragedies and lesser ones. Alexandra learns that Johanna doesn't talk much but she listens. She listens when Alexandra shares the joys of being a man, the freedom mounting a horse brings, the weird pang of hurt she feels when she thinks too much about the fact that her fellow soldiers, friends, would look at her differently if they knew the truth.

And then, when her whole world poured out from her mouth, it's Johanna's turn to speak. Her voice is soft and she talks like she doesn't mean to, but she talks. About her father and his harsh ways, the marriage demands she kept on having to refuse back home, the escape being part of this regiment meant for her.

The question sitting patiently on the tip of Alexandra's tongue answered itself.

Little by little. 

-

Falling in love with Johanna was easy. 

Weeks pass and with them Alexandra's arm recovers. She finds herself walking out and playing cards with some men when they have no other battles to win anywhere else, her wounds still hurting deeply but at least her fever slowly going down, and she doesn't feel the room spinning every time she stands up. It's practically nothing but each day she's better than the day before that, and each day she can almost sense herself going back to being... herself.

And most days she's alone, apart from the very occasional Mulligan and Lafayette. 

Most nights, though, it's Johanna. She brings her food and talks to her about her day, the injured men, the dead ones, the weird stains she found on Burr's shirt when she was assigned laundry duty. Alexandra looks at her and sees something she could have become, if not for her (admittedly reckless) courage of putting on a man's skin. She looks into Laurens' eyes and sees the days that have passed and the ones that are to come. She's got a strange energy, calming aura following her everywhere she goes. Johanna's sweet and kind and truly has a big heart. She's selfless and her values rest where they should. She holds the same hunger, often mistaken by anger, in her eyes, the one Alexandra sees when she looks at herself in the mirror. Maybe their fires were burning from different wicks but they both burned nonetheless.  

Opposites attract but birds of a feather flock together. 

She has never before imagined herself with anyone else, never daydreamed about the perfect husband or the grand family like Angelica and Eliza seemed to always do. Never before even imagined a future for herself. She would have been fine dying at her mother's side, but she didn't die. Would have been fine dying over sea, but she didn't die. Would have been fine dying on the battlefield, and yet, _she_ _didn't die_.     

And so Alexandra discovers hope within Johanna. One that isn't so striking, but still one that pushes her out of bed in the morning. 

And Johanna seemed to be discovering something within her, too. Because she kept coming back, walking in the tent to spend time with her even when she had no apparent reason to, and while Alexandra wished they would talk more when the sun was shining high in the sky, sometimes she'd catch the glee of the moonlight in Johanna's eyes and. 

Nothing else really mattered beside that.

So falling in love with Johanna was easy. It was the good days and the simple gifts and touches, the freckles, the flow of the river and the constellations up high in the sky. The reminder that not everything in this world was made from harsh battles and death. 

The sudden realization that maybe, just maybe, she deserved something good in this world.

-

George Washington was known to be a man with a firm grip. A leader, a pride, a force to be reckoned with. He had the weight of their country and everything it was trying to represent and prove resting on his broad shoulders, pressing in a way that should make him smaller but didn't. Thousands of people were constantly looking up to him, wondering what his next move was going to be, if he was bringing his men to either death or glory.   

Alexandra looked at him most days, always reading, talking, _acting_ , and wondered how a simple man could handle the responsibilities of Gods. 

And even though she never knew what he, on the other part, was thinking when he was staring at her, she'd never thought it'd be anything like the words that just came out of his mouth.

''With all due respect, Sir,'' she starts off, breaking words apart and for once in her life talking at a slow pace. ''I don't think I'm fit to be a... secretary.''  

The general laughs, and Alexandra's offended glare turns into one of confusion. This was no _laughing_ matter. Did that mean that was simply how poorly the man thought of her? That she'd be a good aid, a good assistant, nothing else? She could have been doing that job back in the _city_.

''Quite frankly, Hamilton, I think you're the most fitted person for this post in camp.'' Alexandra silently observes him, trying with great restraint not to burst out and explain the thousands of reasons why she could be of better use anywhere else. She purses her lips together and lets him finish simply because of her strong will of still showing respect to the man. ''Please, Alexander, consider the offer.''

Her smile feels tight and she knows it doesn't look the part, but she smiles nonetheless, bowing down her head before turning around to walk out the tent.

She felt like she could crawl out of her own skin, each pores on her body screaming in anger and injustice.

-

Laurens is sitting on the bed, calmly listening to the unstoppable flow of words coming out of Alexandra's mouth. 

''I didn't do all of this to be an aid, a secretary,'' she's rambling, knows she is, but it feels good to let it all out. ''I risked everything, to what, write for a man? I can't believe Washington even proposed it to me, of all people, I am-''

''You are what?'' she cuts her off with a raise of eyebrows that could go up to her hairline. She's so calm, the temperament of good nurses, always untroubled in desperate situations. Alexandra envies every inch of Johanna's relaxed body, envies _other things_. 

Still she huffs, feigns arrogance.

''I would tell you if you'd simply let me finish.''

Laurens walks over to her, standing up gracefully, the only thing separating them from the real world the cloth that hangs somewhat high over their heads, lapping in the wind. Her dress is the most ugliest, all torn and stained fabric, too big for her scrawny body. Still she shines through it all, somehow manages to look stunning.  

''You'd never finish.''

Alexandra doesn't have anything to say to that.

''Besides, Washington's right. You are of no use in battle, you can barely hold your weapon.''

Johanna holds her gaze firmly, perhaps expecting her to drop hers and accept defeat on the matter. Perhaps there were leftovers of her times spent in her father's expensive castle swimming in her veins, where everybody bowed at her feet and let her have the last word. Instead of doing that, though, Alexandra smiles and barely blinks when she licks her lips around a, ''You think so?'' 

She can sense the tent shrinking smaller and smaller in size around her before she grabs the musket rested by the entrance with her right hand, muscles working on their own to not drop it on the ground. It's a struggle to get in position, but she tries her best to fight through the pain, convinces herself she's used to such sharp discomfort but can't help her face from contorting. It's true that her whole arm only stopped feeling numb a couple days ago. Maybe this wasn't the best of ideas.

Still, the barrel clearly shakes when she brings the weapon up for her left hand to grab. She ignores it, bites the scream down and doesn't even notice the blood that drips out from her bandage. It's Johanna who sees it first, eyes widened in worry as she takes the musket away from her hands.

''Alexandra, for the love of God.'' She's rapidly attending to her arm, and it's not even that much blood, Alex doesn't quite understand why she's reacting so harshly.

''I'm fine, I'm fine. I truly am.'' She tries to push her away but to no avail, especially when she's only got one arm to do it. She hisses between her teeth when she holds her arm up and undoes the bandage, can't help but follow when she walks the small distance to get a new one.

''I should not have let you try that,'' Laurens says, too harsh on herself. After all she'd been the one to make the reckless move.

''Your sole purpose is not to decide what I should or shouldn't do.'' She smiles. _Nurses_. ''Plus, you've proven your point. As much as it pains me to say, I indeed cannot hold a weapon.''

''Does that mean you'll accept the offer?'' Her words hold no bite but a hint of hope behind them, a wish for the answer to be ''yes''. 

''It's not much of an offer, more like an order. And it's true that I'm of better use anywhere here than in the city. Though I'll make it clear to him I am not giving up on getting my own command.''

Johanna is soon done with the rather small injury she'd caused to the wound, delicate hands working fast to stop the bleeding and put a new bandage before finally letting her gain control of her limb once again. She doesn't take a step back like she probably should, instead simply stands there as Johanna answers with,

''Don't be so greedy. It's an honor to get to be so close to Washington.'' She pauses. ''Many would kill to be in your place.''

It was, indeed, a great honor to be chosen by the general himself. Maybe he'd thought of her solely because she couldn't do anything else but write at this point, but being at his side pretty much every hour of every day meant she'd maybe get the chance to talk strategy, show him how useful her brain could be if it was put in charge.

She shakes her head, tries to concentrate on the dancing shadows the candle reflects on the tent's cloth.

''Is this how you talk to the other men around here? _Don't be so greedy?_ '' She knows her words flow like honey and she can see the effect of them on Johanna, the way she tenses up with a slight blush creeping up her neck.

The night had grown dark hours ago, and yet she had never felt more awake.

''You are no man,'' Johanna clarifies, speaking like she's giving her a challenge and yet stepping closer to bring her arms around her neck. ''It's what I like most about you.'' 

Alexandra smirks, tempts damnation with the contact of her hands on Johanna's hips. 

''It is?'' 

Laurens is, apparently, full of surprises. Alexandra didn't expect soft lips muttering words on her neck, didn't expect Johanna's body flush against her tonight, and yet, here they were.

''Men are awful creatures,'' she goes on leaving a trail of kisses down the side of her neck. ''They're loud and ugly and rude and,'' she comes back up, nipping on her jawline before finally resting her lips on Alexandra's. It's a quick peck, a brush of lips with barely no pressure behind it but. It's a kiss. ''And their lips aren't as soft.''

Alexandra can't help but smile, feeling indeed greedy when she brings her hands up Johanna's back to play in her hair. This didn't feel like a first kiss.  

''You just kissed me,'' she blurts out, astonished. Laurens' first reaction is to laugh, and then she kisses her again, and again, and Alexandra stops counting as soon as she feels the brush of Laurens' tongue on hers. 

It seems they know nothing of self control after that. 

-

Working for Washington meant reading letters, countless amounts of letters, each and every one of them full of countless amounts of stupidity, and it meant drafting answers, a ton of them, writing and writing and writing. At least it was something Alexandra was good at, the tip of her quill dancing on the paper with practically no ink spots where there shouldn't be.

''Good work, Alexander,'' the General often said, and even though it gave her some sort of purpose, the whole thing was also, most times, incredibly _boring_.

Though her sentence made itself practical when Johanna, the first time of many times, walked into Washington's tent with a laundry basket in her hands.

''Sir?'' She said, purposely avoiding Alexandra's eyes, which only made her stare more intensively. ''I have your laundry.''      

Out of context, the scene was indefinitely normal, but Alexandra didn't miss it when Johanna finally granted her with a sideways glare, nor did she not acknowledge the smirk playing on her lips when she dropped the basket beside Washington's bed, right next to Alexandra's desk. The woman even had the nerve to bend over _just_ the right way to show off her bottom.   

Hunger blossomed at the bottom of her belly once her train of thoughts brought her to thinking about what exactly was under that dress. Wanting to lift it up and bury her face in sweet condemnation wasn't even a stretch, and she found herself shocked at her own filthy mind. 

She blushed, tried to hide behind a stack of papers, but to no avail, because Johanna still smiled proudly when she walked to make her way out of the tent. 

Washington seemed to notice none of it. 

''Thank you, Laurens,'' he simply said, eyes behind glasses glazing over the letter he was reading. Alexandra crossed her legs as Johanna did a quick bow as a sign of respect before grasping the tissue of the tent. 

Before she turned around, though, she smiled at her, probably holding in her laughter as she mouthed the words, 

_The woods_

Alexandra watches her leave in disbelief, her brain not quite comprehending what just happened. It takes her a beat to find the strength to connect coherent thoughts together, to rest the papers she was still holding in her hands on the surface of the desk and clear her throat before she carefully asks, ''May I be excused?''

Even though Alexandra didn't request to be excused often, Washington didn't seem to think much of it when he sent her off with a shake of his hand in the air. She smiled proudly before attempting her best to stand up and not send her desk flying on the floor so much she was in a hurry to leave. She did knock down an unlit candle, and so Washington looked at her strangely before probably simply brushing it off as Alexander needing badly to urinate. 

She smiled at him in a way she hoped wasn't too awkward before putting back the candle on its right axis and finally making her way out of the tent. 

Her pace was nervous, she could sense it, even though she hoped no one noticed how she barely managed to put one foot in front of the other as she walked towards the woods. She didn't know exactly where Laurens was waiting at, but she imagined it wouldn't be too hard to find the woman. Still, her heart beat with anticipation with every step, and she couldn't quite believe this was her life now. 

It's when she spotted Johanna's deep red scarf wrapped around her hair that she smiled. It was hard not to, when the other woman turned around and seemed to brighten up as she offered her her hand. 

''What are we doing?'' Alexandra asked around her grin once she got close enough to connect their fingertips. Johanna's hand felt soft around her as she let herself be guided away further into the woods, and the sense of adventure and the unknown reminded her of the childhood she never had. It felt almost surreal, the leaves dancing around them, the wind flying in Johanna's dress. The girl seemed to walk faster and faster with each step, and so Alexandra found herself struggling to catch up.

She held her hand tighter, laughed around a, ''Johanna, honey, slow down.'' 

Laurens turned around, walking backwards and, thankfully, slower, to not get caught in the roots and small plants of the ground. 

''We don't have much time,'' she acknowledged, licking her lips. ''Washington will start to wonder what's taking you so long soon enough.'' 

Alexandra smirked, knowing.

''And what's taking me so long?'' 

Johanna finally stopped her frantic pace and slowly walked near her, getting so close that Alexandra ended up tasting the desire in the air. 

She got pushed against a tree before Johanna answered the question with wandering hands. 

It started with a kiss, chaste. Johanna knew how to kiss to make it feel like every brush of lips was special, like every hint of tongue was a blessing. It started off slow, and Alexandra got sick of that soon enough, taking matters into her own hands as she grasped the other woman's unholy hips and flushed their bodies closer together. Johanna moaned into her mouth, barely audible, and that seemed to be the start of their fall. 

Johanna rapidly started unlacing Alexandra's pants, something that brought her freedom starting to look like a curse when the other woman couldn't seem to make sense of the knots. Alexandra laughed, tried to help her out with shaking hands, but Johanna stopped smiling, pushing them away.

''No, no, I want to do this on my own.'' She bit a dent onto her jaw. ''Let me.'' 

Alexandra forgot how to breath but she did manage to murmur out, ''Yes, okay.'' 

Johanna seemed pleased with that. 

She eventually got control over the laces, and Alexandra found herself wanting to make a silly joke about _Victory!,_ or a teasing _Took you long enough,_  but suddenly Johanna's right hand was entering the dept of her pants and all Alexandra could do was moan. This might just be her one way ticket to hell, she realized, but God was it worth it. The way Johanna ground in the heel of her palm with a sudden twist of her wrist, the skilled movement even over the undergarments bringing a sweet, hot rush into Alexandra's core, or the way she couldn't seem to stop nipping at her jaw and neck, warm lips marking her all over, was all too much, but all so worth it. Even when she practically cried out as Johanna finally connected skin with skin.

There was nothing sweet about it, about Johanna's hot breath on her neck or her fingers unfolding her folds as she dipped a finger in. The palm of her hand held a constant pressure against her clit, and Alexandra ground against it, tried her best to fight the reflex when Johanna's other hand grabbed her side and held her firmly. 

It's when Johanna got Alex under control that she changed the angle a bit, joined her middle finger with another one and used her thumb instead of her palm to give friction. The contact was so direct, _perfect_ , that Alexandra's scream got stuck in her throat as she finally started tasting the foretaste of release.   

She was going to come soon, much too soon, and part of her didn't want to as much as the other was racing to the finish line. She got control over herself, tried to breathe evenly and form the words she wanted to speak out.

''Jo, Johanna, baby-'' The other woman didn't stop, simply lifted her head from the crook of her neck to grant her with eyes contact. Alexandra's eyelids fluttered close, all of it far too intense. 

''Please, let me see, I want to see,'' she felt herself blushing at the request sitting at the tip of her tongue. Though Johanna didn't blush, didn't shift, simply listened carefully.

''What do you want?'' She asked, and Alexandra caved in.

''Let me see your breasts?'' 

She let the back of her head fall against the tree, starting to feel far too heavy for her neck, and Johanna laughed.

''Of course, baby, of course.''

Johanna simply took a small step back and continued the movements of her hand, leaving her chest open for Alexandra to unwrap. Her hands were shaking as she brought them up to undo the complicated knots of the dress, and she felt herself starting to laugh as Laurens, unlike her, didn't even offer any help. Alexandra never quite had the hang of it with dresses, didn't have a mother to teach her, always needed to ask Eliza for help, and now she remembered why.

Though when the bust finally stopped being so tight and she could tear it open, another wave of pure heat hit her right in the belly.

Johanna's breasts were bigger than hers, for sure, hanging lower and not exactly even but so, so perfect. Alexandra pushed her hands up from below them, grabbing them from under as she pushed them up and quickly passed her thumbs across the slightly brown nipples. The were both resting heavy on her hands, and she never truly knew how soft the body of a woman was, how beautiful, but now she regretted ever wanting to hide her own. 

She flushed their bodies closer once again, bringing a nipple for her lips to taste, and Johanna's hand started losing its rhythm. Still, she didn't bother holding her still anymore, and so Alexandra was free to grind against the hand as she pleased. 

It didn't take long after that. 

Alexandra felt it coming from miles away, but still it surprised her, when the heat pooled and pooled and finally everything clicked together and collapsed and she trashed against the tree, hands grasping Johanna's body everywhere as she tried her best to ride it out. The orgasm was strong and intense but didn't last so long. Alexandra's mind got back into her body soon enough so that she could open her eyes and have a good look at the beautiful, beautiful Jo Laurens, who was licking the wetness away from her fingers. 

''Jo,'' she said in bliss, and the other woman didn't seem to think much of the newfound nickname. She was too busy replacing her dress he way it was supposed to be. ''That was, beyond.''  

''Beyond what?'' Laurens was pleased with herself. Alexandra could see it in the way her shoulders were rolled back and how she was tying her hair back, a smirk on her face. 

''Everything,'' was all Alexandra could answer, and then it hit her. ''Let me show you.'' 

Jo started laughing, trying to push away Alexandra's hands when she tried to lift the skirt of her dress up.

''We don't have the time,'' she proclaimed, determined to be selfless.

Alexandra didn't care, and she told her so, and it's only then that Johanna finally resigned.  

Alex fell down on her knees, like she did in the battlefield so long ago now, like she did for the revolution, and God, did the revolution taste sweet. 

-

She walks back into the open field of their camp a while after Johanna does, wondering if she looks as fucked out as she feels. She wipes the back of her hand across her mouth once more before trying to adjust her coat the best she can, wondering if she looks as suspicious as she feels. 

The question is answered on its own once Burr walks up to her.

''You're insane,'' he says, grabbing her hand and leading her to his own tent. She starts to protest, because according to Washington, as of now she's spent at least twenty minutes relieving herself.  

''Burr, I need to get back to work, or-'' 

He cuts her off. 

''Or what? Washington will know?'' He rolls his eyes at her stunned expression. ''I never thought you'd be stupid enough to pull something like this, Alexander.'' 

Finally they walk into some kind of privacy, this being the first time Alexandra sets foot into Burr's tent. She doesn't waste much time looking around. 

''Stupid like what?'' She knows she's simply stalling for time, knows she's doomed as soon as Burr tilts his head with eyes that scream _''I'm not an idiot.''_

There's a moment of silence, where Burr doesn't want to say the words, _stupid like fucking nurses in the woods_ , and Alexandra doesn't know which excuse she can possibly pull this time. 

''You have something to say? Say it.'' She's more familiar with anger instead of fear in her bones.

He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, and Alexandra thinks that she might just get away with this, right until he blurts out, ''What if she's pregnant?'', and not in a way that means he cares. Though he has to, she realizes. They wouldn't be talking if he didn't.

Still, she laughs at the suggestion. Who did he think he was, what did he think he knew? 

''She's not, believe me.'' 

''You can't be certain, and you have the honor to work so close to the General, Alexander-''

''Alexandra.'' 

The word escapes her mouth before she can stop it, like a bullet from a gun she didn't mean to shoot, and she panics. Her eyes open wide and she wants to start denying her own input, to run away, but she notices Burr's expression before anything else. How it changes then, going from disgust to confusion, until he looks into her eyes and it's like there's a fog that finally dissolved. 

She's never even seen him show that much emotion. 

Burr is as much a mystery as he's unpredictable. She doesn't know what lays between his temples, what he thinks of women, what he thinks of _anything_. To anyone she could have revealed her secret to, she realizes like a knife twisting in her guts that he was probably the worst. 

''You- you can't- that's,'' Burr falls over his own sentence a thousand times before he passes a hand over his face and settles on, ''Oh.''  

She accepts defeat then, lets her arms fall on both sides of her body and waits for him to leave, go on and tell everybody with a smug smile on his face. He'll probably be happy she'll be out of his way, and hell, there was a good chance he'd be the one to replace her at Washington's side. 

Burr doesn't move. 

There's a moment between reality and imagination, where Alexandra doesn't know if Burr sitting on the edge of his bed and saying, ''Well, I didn't expect that.'' is real or not. She has no clue of what to say or how to say it, if she should take him by the collar and make him promise not to tell anyone, or if she should just leave. She's not angry, not with him, there's no reason to be, but she's angry at herself, and fear cripples her.

She settles on, ''Will you tell?'', because it leaves him the choice to say no without any threats. Maybe there's also a part of her who simply wants to see if he's a good person, if he knows when to do the right thing. 

He shakes his head no, smiles.

''Who could have thought.''  

-

Summer roots itself deeper and with it Washington grows tired, Alexandra can see it well in his eyes and the heavy bags under them. She knows her place, now, how important it is, and if she leaves her duty once or twice a week to find Johanna in the woods, or if she exchanges a knowing smile with Burr every once and a while, well. Nobody knows. _Especially_ not the General.

Right now he's reading a letter from congress under the shivering light of a candle, open palm resting on his forehead to keep the headache at bay. Alexandra watches his gaze rapidly scanning the paper until he falls back on his chair with an unpleasant groan and unbuttons his collar. 

She rests her quill on the table and looks at him, knowing the explanation for such a reaction will come on its own.

''I am to return a list of the names and number of women we have in order to have them examined.'' He pauses before reluctantly finishing the thought. ''We do not have enough rations to feed so many mouths.'' 

It takes her a beat to fully understand the implications of the statement. One she does, her mouth runs off.

''We're sending back women? What of laundry, injuries? We need them as much as they need us, congress is aware, let me write to them, I will convince any reader that we cannot afford to send them-''

Washington cuts her off with a raise of his hand, strong and stiff as a General's hands should be. 

''Only _some_ women. Those who are unmarried, aren't performing a necessary task...'' Alexandra watches as the man takes another look at the letter to refresh his mind, ''misbehaved or are ill.'' 

If Washington sees the look of distress on Alexandra's face, if he notices the way her hands crisp on the wooden table or the way she constantly blinks to stop the tears from swelling in her eyes, he doesn't say anything about it.

''Write to congress a list of our women, what they're here for, their health state and nothing else.'' He sighs and quickly gets up once a ''But-'' leaves her mouth.

'' _Nothing else_ , Alexander.'' 

Her heart drops and she fights the urge to get up and run after him out of the tent, to beg on her knees, to cry and scream simply because of fear.

 _Johanna_.


End file.
